Useing the Beast
by Dieing Demon
Summary: A kid named Seth had a very hard life and finds him self fighting for a living because he doesnt know how to do anything else.


**The Beast in Me**

I'm just a plain old kid. My names Seth. I'm the same as everyone else but there are some differences. Like I never knew my parents. The both died young. My mom at birth so i have no idea who the hell she is. My dad, David, died when I was 12. Never really knew him either. Its not that i didn't see him a lot but something in my heart just wouldn't let me be close to my own dad. Weird right? Something else that's different about me is that everyone wants to beat the living shit out of me. They want to see me on the ground bleeding, not able to move. That's because I fight for a living now. It helps release anger. All the mother fucking anger kept inside of me for to long. Just the thought of my next fight makes my veins pop out of my skin, my blood pump more then it ever should but mostly it gives my the thrill of one more time to be able to play god. It gives me the choice if someone dies or lives. Wish I had the choice with my parents, but that's off topic. In the ring there is no heaven, there is no hell, there is no forgiveness. Its simply just kill or be killed. One other thing about me, and you probly noticed this, is that i have extreme anger issues. I don't know where i got it. It could be my mom. Probly not my dad, he was a mellow guy. Then again the only times we would talk is when he was high. I guess you can say my dad and I have one thing in common. We both were addicted to something. Two different things though. His was pot and meth. Mine is to fight. Or maybe I got them on my own. I don't remember much of growing up. I sort of blocked out all the bad parts. I only remember short snap shots of life. Just one of those moments of great silence. Where it seems for a change that everything is good. Man, I wish life had more moments like that. All I hear is the screams of people around the ring. But it all leads back to the one bad memory I remember. Something I know other people can't do. I became a beast at 13.

I guess I'll tell you the story seeing that I have time before my next fight. Maybe I can get over a broke nose and a bused rip in the short time I got. I sort of have to. It started when I was reading this book. I know it sounds weird that anger issues start by reading a book but for me it did. I read a lot about drugs. Mostly meth to see what's going to happen next to my dad. It was about a very old band. I don't even remember their name but they rocked. The cover had a picture of the guitarist on it. Half of it was so fucked up. It was ripped a part in shreds. You could see nothing but darkness when you looked at his wounds. It was photo shop but still sad to look at. Then the other half is what his fans always saw. Him looking fine. Got big sunglasses on and just a great smile. The cover its self meant a lot to me. It showed that no matter how fucked up someone could be there is still little bit of good in them. One of my ex-friends goes up to me and asked what I was reading. We talked a lot about how someone can have a fake front and how it's sad that people live their lives with a needle in their arm. I miss talking to people like that. Especially someone as beautiful as her. We kept talking and more of my ex-friends came in. we are all just talking about what ever came next in our heads. I really miss talking to people. It was great. Then another ex-friend came in. He looked at the book and said, "I can't tell which one is wasted. They both look shit faced."

I don't know why but at that moment something clicked in my head. I felt rage going threw my body, in my blood. I started feeling light headed from the natural high you get from adrenalin. I was ready to scream my head off till he was on the ground with shit in his pants. So that's what I did. I tour him a new ass without even touching him. He was crying and I felt good. I never feel good. This was a new emotion for me. I loved it. I needed more but I didn't know how to make myself feel better so I screamed more. "Who fucking wants a piece of me? I'll take on any duchbag that thinks he can take me down!" I screamed at everyone in the room. "I don't even care if you don't want to fight. The next person to say a word to me is getting his ass beatin'!"

A close ex-friend I called George came up to me ever so slowly scared of what might happen. I turned slowly unsure what to do. He was my friend but at the time, everyone was my enemy. He said so softly that i was the only person in the room that heard it and he whispered, "Calm down Seth." That second i punched him right in his face and knocked him out one punch. It felt good. I loved that more. Just to see what else would happen i curve stomped him in the throat. that was no fun. He was knocked out. I had nothing to do with him now. Then a duchbag named Jake comes up. This kid has wanted to pick a fight with me for a while. The whole room went silent. He says way to cocky "Bring it."

He charges at me full speed. His shoulder hits my abs. I didn't fall one bit. Instead i grasped his throat with my forearm and grasped the back of his lose pants and picked him up. He screams "Uncle! Mercy!" as he is facing the ground. I lift this head up to mine. I see that he is scared for his life. He should be. As i hold him in my hands. I feel like god for the first time. I whisper in his ear. "No." and drop him right on his head.

I have no idea if he lived but it's fun, for me. I wanted more but no one else would step up. One kid already called the cops. Described me as a human becoming a beast. We all have beast in us but I'm one of the few who use it. I didn't want to be sent to jail. I would feel bad for whoever was in my cell. They would become my new punching bag. So i was going to run. The one person i cared about so much is the only one i knew i would miss. I said my goodbyes to her and had my first and last kiss with her. That one kiss is the only one i had.

Then i did something i hoped would kill me. I ran and jumped threw a window of a three story house. I lived for some reason so i ran. I ran as far as i could. Hitch hiked a bit and went to New York. Home of the fighting under ground. Now where i live. 27, going nowhere in my life and still a beast.


End file.
